Come With Me Back: Back to Neverland
by TheBronzePearl
Summary: Based on the '03 movie   Wendy has grown to only miss Peter. But when he comes back, he wants her- oh right, and the boys- to come back to Neverland. Hook's son has come and has taken over. And will Peter and Wendy sort out their feelings?  Wen   Peter


01/08/2011 10:18:00

Chapter One~ All Children Must Grow Up

(Peter's POV)

Wendy Moria Angela Darling stood by her window. She shivered and tried wrapping her shall close around her as snow flurries descended on her head. She looked back at the nursery, where an eleven-year-old John lay fast asleep in his bed: the bed beside the one where her dear seven-year-old Michael slept, still clutching that teddy bear. She looked back out the window, her eyes naturally darting to that second star to the right. She had never let anyone shut the window. If she woke up to find it was locked, she would sob quietly, but before anyone could see would wipe the tears away from her eyes. Little did she know that dear Michael always saw them—those tears. He missed Peter too, and so did John, but not like Wendy. No one could ever miss Peter except Wendy.

"You must move out of the nursery." Her Aunt had said disgustingly.

"No!" Wendy shouted. "I will not leave Michael and John, or the

Lost Boys, to be all alone in their room! Did you know that Michael wakes up and gets horrible nightmares? What if I'm not there to comfort him?" the Aunt only sighed.

"Wendy Darling, you're growing up. It's time to face it."

"No!" Wendy would sob. "No…" She would constantly repeat no over again, thinking to herself if she said it enough it would be true. She looked out the window now, and wiped the tears from her eyes. Two years. She had waited two years. And, exactly, where was the one boy who never grew up? "Oh Peter," She muttered, her lip trembling. "If only I could never grow up. Oh, if only I had stayed." She sat down in front of the window and just sat, looking out.

"I tell stories about you every night. But you never come." She whispered, like he was there. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. She snapped her head around to see John, of all people.

"Wendy, what if he's not coming back." It was a statement, not a question.

She retorted, "Of course he will," while quickly moving her shoulder from John's warm and kind grip.

I watched cautiously from the window. How I missed her.

(Wendy's POV)

The next night was like any other. I walked into the room full of boys, each in costumes with eye patches and swords, except Nibbs.

"I'm going to Peter!" Nibbs declared, sticking his chest out just like Peter did. I smiled wide, trying to hold back the tears. He looked almost just like Peter would have stood: but he was missing those beautiful green-blue eyes, and that curly dirty-blonde hair.

"How about no one's Peter?" I laughed. "I'll tell you a story instead." They all immediately sat down on the floor, some on the bed, anxious faces on them all. This made me giggle, and I sat down in the old rocking chair, smoothing out my dress. I was fourteen with blue eyes, bright and sparkling, like the sea on a blue-skied day, or so Father had said. My skin was fair and luckily I had a great complexion, and mother told me my childish dimples looked so pretty on my face. My hair was a reddish-blonde, and then there were my smiling lips. And right there on the small right-hand corner was that small little hidden kiss. That thimble.

"Once," I began, "There was a boy. He had lost his shadow. Of all places, it found itself in the Nursery of the Darling House. He rummaged around for it, looking everywhere, with his fairy Tinkerbell as a light. Suddenly, he opened a drawer, and out came his shadow. It spun around the room. He grabbed a bar of soap, and grabbed the foot of the accursed shadow. He tried, but as hard as he did, his shadow would not stick. He threw the bar of soap at the shadow, which flinched. He wrapped his arms around his knees, bringing his head down, and, rocking back and forth, he sobbed.

Now there was a girl in the bed beside him. Her name was Wendy Moria Angela Darling, and she was fast asleep. But at the sound of the poor boy's sobs, she awoke, lazily. Then she saw the boy and leaned up a bit.

'Boy,' She said quietly. He turned his head up to her. 'Why are you crying?'

He instantly flew up and hit the ceiling with his head.

'You can fly!' The girl exclaimed. He stared at her while he slowly came down to the floor.

'What's your name?' The girl asked inquisitively.

'What's _your_ name?' He asked back.

'Wendy Moria Angela Darling.' The girl replied."

" 'Peter,' the boy said, crossing his arms. 'Pan'," A familiar voice said. I looked up and to the left, to the window where a boy, dressed in a tunic of sorts made of leaves, stood, hands on his hips, chest sticking out proudly.

"Oh Peter!" I cried, running to the boy. "Oh Peter you're back!" I smiled and hugged him tightly. At first he let out **OOF!** But then he hugged back.

All the boys ran to them, and I released his hug so he could hug all the other little boys. Instead he cried, "Lost Boys! Salute!" And they all formed a two-row line, the boys in the front kneeling, and each taking off their hats and saluting. I just laughed. "Sit," He smiled, his teeth somewhat crooked, and pointed to the beds. They all obediently went and sat down, some of them placing their pirate hats back on their heads.

"Well, Wendy, won't you finish the story? I've come just to hear it," He smiled, and went and sat down on the floor between the two beds. I chuckled and sat back down in the rocker. "So, where was I?"

"You were at the part where they introduced themselves." Michael answered me. I smiled.

I started back up again. "'Where do you live?' The girl asked. He turned and pointed out the window.

'Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning.' He turned and gasped a little, as the girl had stepped a little closer.

'Is that what they put on the letters?' She asked, curious.

'Don't get any letters.' Peter replied.

'But your mother—she must get letters.' Wendy said, sure to find his address out somehow.

'Don't have a mother,' the boy said calmly. She looked at him, sighing.

'No wonder you were crying.' At this the boy straightened up. 'I wasn't crying about mothers,' he retorted, 'I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick.'"

All the boys had fallen fast asleep but they all managed to stay up until I finished the story. I tucked them each in. Peter stood up and stretched.

"Well, I don't think you should have left out so much." He said, smiling. I just now noticed… He had grown up quite a bit. His face had lost some of its baby fat, and so had his entire body. He was just as lean as the first time I saw him… Only a tad bit taller.

"Left out what?" I asked, going to each boy, taking off their pirate hates and eye patches.

"Well, certain things." He muttered, looking down at his feet. I looked down and reached for the chain that was tucked under my nightgown. It was more like a woman's—less girlish and frilly. It was straighter. I fiddled with the acorn in my hands, running my thumb over the small little hole that the arrow of one of the little boy's had put there.

"I didn't leave out much, Peter." I said quietly, quite sadly. I put my armful of pirate hats and eye patches and swords in the toy chest, half at the foot of one bed, half at the other.

He stayed silent. "I've come back. Every night. Well, almost every." Suddenly I spun around.

"What?" I asked, my voice high.

"I listen to your stories and—"

"How _dare_ you, Peter bloody Pan!" I said, my mouth quavering as I said it. "How _dare_ you, after all the nights I've spent these past two years, waiting? How _dare_ you, after I cried my eyes out over missing you? And how dare you, after…" I let my voice trail off as I sat down on the floor. Peter knelt down in front of me.

"How dare I?" He asked, his face sad. "Because Wendy. Because I was afraid. Afraid that… Afraid that once I'd see you, the Lost Boys, Michael, John… I would never want to go back again."

(Peter's POV)

How could I tell her? Tell her that every night, it broke my heart to see her cry?

She looked up at me with those bright blue eyes that were misty with tears. I wanted to wipe them away, but my hands were so dirty. I hadn't gotten to wash them in awhile.

"You had a choice, Peter. You could've stayed." This stung my heart. Yes, I could've. But I didn't. Oh, the stubbornness of me.

"I came in because I wanted to… Wanted to ask you something. You can say no or yes. No maybes." I sighed, taking in a deep breath.

"Will you come with me?" I murmured. "Will you come with me back?"s


End file.
